


Lay So Still

by yougotmetieddown



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Barebacking, Comeplay, Dom/sub, Kink Exploration, M/M, Objectification, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 18:44:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14754239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yougotmetieddown/pseuds/yougotmetieddown
Summary: Harry’s almost there but he needs Louis to push it further, just a bit further. Because it’s good, it’s damn near perfect but there’s still something missing, and Harry’s not above begging, never has been when it comes to Louis.





	Lay So Still

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of an AU that I'm never gonna finish but it's some pretty solid filth and feels like a waste not to share so! Have fun!

Louis has Harry pinned to the bed with a hand on his waist and another on his chest, hips rocking back and forth where he’s riding Harry. Some distant part of Harry’s brain is able to rationalize that Louis is actually tiny and light enough to be carried around no problem, but here, in his bed, Louis is larger than life, the weight of his hands pressing right through Harry, leaving him weak, trembling and pretty much useless. It’s a good thing Louis likes him that way.

Louis’ looking down at him, face flushed, mouth panting open, grinding his hips in tiny little circles on Harry’s cock. It’s definitely not enough to get Harry off, but that’s precisely the point.

“Want you to use me,” Harry slurs out, keeping his eyes fixed on Louis’. “Use me, please, wanna be used.”

Louis closes his eyes, panting out a “Fuck,” his voice gone all high and needy like it does sometimes, when Harry hits him in the right spot. Harry’s never heard it go like that from words alone and it sends a shiver down his spine, right down to his cock that’s still inside Louis, tight and hot and pulsing. Right that moment Louis sits up and back down, grinding onto him properly and they’re so in sync sometimes that it’s almost scary.

Scared is the last thing Harry’s feeling right now though.

Louis’ back to grinding, shifting back until he’s moaning with every thrust, and Harry knows he’s hitting him just right, and he isn’t even doing anything, just laying there, like he’s just a tool to use for Louis’ pleasure and he’s lightheaded with it, with how much he wants it.

Louis had been hesitant at first when Harry had asked for this, mumbled it into the back of Louis’ neck under the covers after dark, too embarrassed to do it in daylight with Louis’ eyes on him. He’d held Louis close and asked to just be used, like he’s not good for anything else, like he’s just a cock to ride on and a body to hold onto. Louis had gone all tense and nervous before starting a ramble about how he didn’t want to hurt Harry, didn’t want to make him feel less, and it had taken Harry a long time to explain that sometimes all he wanted _was_ to feel less, that sometimes all he wanted to was to just exist for someone’s pleasure without having to think about anything, without having to be anything, just taking it and knowing that that’s enough, that he’s enough. Just talking about it had gotten him hard and he’d shifted back, embarrassed, but Louis had noticed, Louis always notices, and he’d pressed himself up against Harry, grinding his arse against Harry’s erection and started whispering about how it was okay, how Louis loved this game they had been playing for a while now, where sometimes in bed he took control of everything and called Harry names and told him when he was allowed to come, and how they’d have to talk about it first, properly, but if Harry wanted to take their game further he’d love to use him, like he was just a cock to be ridden, and those were the words that did it, that made Harry come in his pants sticky and wet and humiliating and on fire with how much he wanted it.

Now they’re doing it, after talking about it properly and all, and Harry’s almost there but he needs Louis to push it further, just a bit further, because it’s good, it’s damn near perfect but there’s still something missing, and Harry’s not above begging, never has been when it comes to Louis.

“Please,” he whimpers, “Lou, please, like we talked about, like I’m nothing.”

He realizes it too late, that in his desperation he’s started squirming, that he’s started pushing back, and he feels it happen, feels his hips push up and into Louis, and no, that’s wrong, that’s not supposed to happen, that’s not how this works, he fucked it up, it was so good and he fucked it up -

Louis pulls up in one quick smooth motion and the loss of the heat around him is so overwhelming Harry lets out a startled moan that’s more like a yell, and Louis’ up, up on his hands and knees, hovering over Harry but not touching, not touching him anywhere.

“Do toys move?” he asks, panting, voice dark and eyes even darker. Harry just gapes at him, wordless. “Do toys move, Harry?”

“No,” he gets out, voice barely a whisper.

Louis’ face shifts, the firm set of his jaw relaxing, his eyes softening, and he breaks character, asks: “Colour?”

“Green,” Harry pants out, feeling his dick twitching helplessly against nothing, blood rushing in his ears, and they’ve done this countless times before, Harry fucking up, sometimes on purpose and sometimes by accident, and getting punished for it. He knows how this is gonna work, he knows and he loves it, it’s just the push he needed, just what he needed. The punishment is Louis over him, panting so hard Harry can feel his breath on his chest, not touching him, and Harry loves it, loves it, loves it.

Louis looks at him for one, two, three deafening beats of his heart before setting his jaw again. “No, toys don’t move,” he says. “They lay there and take it like that’s all they’re good for.”

Harry’s vision is swimming and he realizes belatedly that it’s tears, that the shock of having nothing touch him, of Louis calling him _toy_ , that it’s all overwhelming enough to make him cry. It’s not the first time it’s happened, but never like this, never this early on, and he nods, keeps nodding, mouths a silent _green_ to make sure Louis doesn’t stop.

“I’m sorry,” he gets out, a broken little thing.

“Are you?” Louis asks him and Harry notices he’s shaking now, holding his composure but definitely shaking.

“I’m sorry,” he says, knowing he’s going to beg now, this is the part where he begs, but he’s never felt the need to this fervently, and when the words start spilling over his lips it doesn’t feel like a game anymore. “I’ll be good, I’ll be so good, I’ll be so good for you, I’ll lay so still,” he’s rambling, and there’s tears falling down the sides of his face and into his ears. “Please just take me, use me, Louis, promise I’ll be good.”

“Useless,” Louis scoffs and then there’s a hand touching his face, a palm over his mouth so he can’t even _beg_ anymore, and he twitches with how sudden it is to be touched again, but struggles to stay still, to just lay back and pant, and then there are fingers on his lips, pushing into his mouth and his breath hitches, another shockwave of shivers running down his body. He focuses all his willpower to not moving, to laying his tongue flat and breathing around Louis’ fingers, three of them pushing and pulling and touching and fucking his mouth, and Louis’ not giving his eyes even one glance, focused on his spit slick fingers stretching Harry’s mouth wider instead, and Harry thinks _thank you, thank you, thank you._

Louis has a thing for his mouth, has always had, but it’s never been like this, this obscene, the full focus on just this, and Harry’s vibrating with it, his hands trembling where they’re gripping the sheets.

Louis spreads his fingers, stretching his mouth even wider and Harry goes with it, pliant, bending his neck back, feeling his eyes slip closed.

“Such a pretty hole,” Louis says then, and Harry almost chokes with how hard it hits him, that his mouth’s not even a mouth anymore. “Would love to fill it up,” Louis muses, like he’s just idly talking to himself. “Always looks so lovely covered in come.”

Harry’s never wanted to taste anything more, feels saliva gathering on his tongue just from the thought, because if Louis has a thing for mouths then Harry definitely has a thing for come, getting it on him and in him, tasting it, and his cock’s back to twitching again, the cold air hitting it. He’s been hard forever now, can’t remember what it feels like not to have that heavy rigid hotness between his legs.

Then there’s another hand on him, on his neck, squeezing for a bit, not enough to cut his air off but enough to remind him that it could, before it sweeps down to his collarbones. The other hand stays in Harry’s mouth and he really needs to swallow, but the need to stay still is more overpowering than that, than anything really.

Fingers stroke over his collarbones and though he can’t see he can feel Louis’ eyes on them, burning on his skin. The hand moves lower, fingers tangle themselves in the few strands of hair on his chest and he knows Louis’ gonna pull, braces himself for it, and manages to keep almost still when it happens, sudden and brutal and cutting through him, sending a shockwave of shivers down his spine and up his neck, manages to barely moan and just twitch lightly. Louis hums and Harry takes it for the _good job_ he knows it to be.

The hand sweeps lower, over his ribs and waist, pressing into his skin possessively, and the other one, the one still in his mouth, twitches back to stroking his tongue. “There’s another hole here that I love filling up too,” Louis says, voice breathy like it gets when he’s really turned on, hand sweeping down Harry's side to his arse and Harry wants to spread his legs but can’t, the weight of Louis’ words pushing him down, keeping him still.

Louis’ hand leaves his mouth, leaving him panting for air and desperately swallowing down the saliva pooled in there, and then there are knees on the insides of Harry’s, pushing his legs open roughly, and the hand, slick with spit, is rubbing against his hole.

It’s wet and though it isn’t cold Harry can’t help the yelp he lets out or the twitch of his hips, but he focuses, stays still, and after a moment Louis’ hand moves, a wet finger pushing into him, Harry still somewhat loose from the morning.

Louis pulls it out and pushes in with two and it’s too much too soon, hurts, but Harry loves it when it hurts a bit. His hands grip the sheets on either side of him and he breathes through the pain, feels himself relax, head spinning.

Louis can’t reach his prostate in this position, his fingers are too short, and Harry finds himself grateful for that, just the feeling of the fingers stretching him almost too much.

“Pretty down here too,” Louis says then, and Harry twitches again from hearing his voice after such a long time of nothing but the blood in his ears. “Love filling it up with come, love pushing it in,” and Harry’s opening his eyes to pant at the ceiling, the mental image too much. “Could take a lot more than just one load,” Louis says, then chuckles. “Should try it sometime, how much can fit before it starts leaking out,” and yeah, okay, eyes closed is a lot better actually.

Louis’ free hand has been laying on Harry’s hip but it starts moving now, down between his legs and then up. It cups Harry’s balls and Harry sobs with the shock of it, having been untouched for so long. The hand moves, kneads them, and Harry can feel a blurt of precome sliding down his cock, his cock that’s desperately twitching in the cool air of his bedroom and must be nearing purple now.

Louis’ shifting then, sitting up, keeping his knees tucked against the insides of Harry’s thighs. He slides the other hand up, letting his balls fall and closing around the root of his dick, firm but not giving him anything more, just a dull pressure as Louis holds it up.

“This, though, this is my favourite part,” Louis sighs, and Harry can hear him wet his lips. “Never had a dick like this before, so _thick._ ” Harry used to be a bit self-conscious about his dick, used to think it looked weird on him, too thick for a tall skinny guy, but that was before he met Louis. “Never liked long ones, couldn’t sit down on them properly, and fuck I love sitting on a dick, love feeling it stretch me open, love -”

Then Louis’ lowering his mouth on it, taking it halfway down his throat and Harry’s started crying again, can feel the sobs shaking his body. His hips stay in place though, and he’s so proud of himself it almost wrecks another sob out of him.

Louis pulls off with an obscene slurping noise that should not be hot but has Harry’s hands gripping the sheets tighter, and then the fingers pull out of him and he can feel Louis shifting, his knees settling on either side of his hips.

He blinks his eyes open and Louis’ staring back at him, chest heaving, flushed all the way down his ribs and arms. The moment hangs for a couple more rapid beats of Harry’s heart, Louis braced on his knees above Harry, still holding his dick, tears and probably snot running down Harry’s face and he realizes with horrifying clarity that this is it, Louis is it, no matter what happens and who he sleeps with in the future, he’s never gonna have this with anyone else. This level of trust, of absolute certainty that no matter what he does or wants, that someone is going to understand.

He’s laying still, tears blurring his vision, hands clasped into the sheets, with a guy just having talked about him like he’s not even there for the better part of an hour and he’s never felt more safe, more accepted.

 _I’m in love with you,_ he realizes, staring into Louis’ eyes and Louis nods as if to say _I know._

Then his cock twitches in Louis’ hold and something changes in Louis’ face, the moment breaking, and the urgency is back, the need to feel feel feel, and Harry whimpers “Please.”

Louis licks his lips, leans back, presses Harry’s cock against his hole, and it might be his imagination but Harry swears he feels it twitch against his tip, and then it’s in, heat swallowing him up in one swift movement as Louis sits back, his weight anchoring Harry’s hips down, reminding him not to move.

Louis doesn’t waste any time, taking a breath, throwing his head back, and starting a fervent rhythm, leaning his hands back on Harry’s thighs to reach the right angle, a breathy moan punched out of him with every thrust.

Harry lets his eyes fall closed, forgetting about the revelation he just had for now, focuses on staying still and just _feels._

If there was any hesitation in Louis’ movements before that’s all gone now, replaced by heat and urgency, his hips moving in selfish little jerks, his knuckles and knees ruthlessly digging into Harry’s flesh, and Harry hopes there’ll be bruises, wants Louis to bruise him up, to use him and use him, reduce him to an object that’s there just for his pleasure, and fuck, he feels his orgasm approaching, not yet, not yet -

“Can I come?” he asks, begs, and he’s failing at their game but he can’t help it, can’t help it -

Suddenly there’s pressure around his dick, and it hurts, _it hurts_ , forces his eyes open, to see Louis’ hand reaching underneath himself, fingers pressing a tight ring around Harry’s cock and he’s sobbing, almost yelling, because it hurts but it’s so right, that Louis won’t let him come, won’t let him come because he’s just a -

“Can toys come?” Louis scoffs, a nasty tilt to his mouth, and that hurts too, hurts in the best way, and he’s still not stopping, sitting on the hand that’s squeezing on the base of Harry’s cock while continuing to press the tip of it against his own prostate. “I was gonna give you my come, cover you in it, for being a good plaything -”

“Please, yes, please, Louis, I’m sorry, please,” Harry’s babbling, choking on his words, shaking all over, sobs heaving through his chest. “I’ll be good, I’ll be a good plaything, promise I won’t come, promise.”

Louis’ still working Harry’s dick in and out of him in sharp little thrusts but he’s started to shake too, Harry can feel it and hear it in his breathing, and he just wants, just wants.

“I won’t come, promise, please give me your come, promise I’ll lick it up good, swallow it, all inside me, inside me(, whatever you want, I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours -”

Louis comes.

He keens high in his throat, a gorgeous drawn out moan, tightening around Harry’s dick like a vice, and comes in hot long pulses on Harry’s stomach. It hits Harry’s skin warm and sticky, pools in his navel and runs down his side, and through the shock of it all, of Louis’ fingers letting go of him and his hole tightening around him, Harry doesn’t come.

Louis takes three gulps of air, opens his eyes, trembling from both the orgasm and the sheer shock of having come untouched. He meets Harry’s eyes, recovering faster than should be humanly possible in Harry’s opinion, sits all the way down Harry’s dick, pulsing around him in the aftershocks, and gathers his own come in one hand, bringing the other up to Harry’s mouth, shaking but firm. He holds his mouth open wide, and pushes the fingers of his other hand in, wiping the come on Harry’s tongue, leaving to scoop more and feed another handful to him. His gaze moves from Harry’s mouth and locks with his eyes. He tightens around Harry’s cock and says “Come.”

And Harry does.


End file.
